


Escapades

by TheCarrot



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Blood, Bullet wound, Eve doesn't like it when her librarians get hurt, Ezekiel gets hurt, Gen, Hurt!Ezekiel, Hurt/Comfort, I really need a new title..., Jenkins is a good stitcher, Solo missions gone wrong, Squonks, Whump, bad tagging because I'm a bad person, bad writing because I'm tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: Jenkins is careful when he drops the Australian onto the bed, moving to haul the blankets back and over the weary figure thats curling around one of the fluffier pillows. “Now, sleep, and hopefully tomorrow you’ll be well enough to explain to me what he hell you were doing getting shot at.” He snips.“Fine…but we n’ver tell Baird bout this, eh?” Ezekiel mutters, eyes slipping closed as exhaustion crashes over him.





	Escapades

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that most of this was written with at least half a bottle of rum in my system.... mistakes are my own and please feel free to point them out to me.

Ezekiel has a habit of going out on his own at night and not coming back until dawn. Sometimes he returns with precious jewel in hand, other times a painting, maybe even a statue now and again; however more often than not lately he comes back to the Annex empty handed, exhausted and looking oddly wind blown.

Jenkins watches him come and go, and isn’t overly concerned about it until one day just after midnight when the door activates and said thief spills out of it, knees staggering as he almost falls to he floor. He had only been gone for less than an hour.

“Mr. Jones?”

Pain filled brown eyes shoot up and Jenkins feels that old familiar (and yet still annoying) stab of worry he’s starting to get every time one of his librarians looks even the slightest bit ruffled.

Ezekiel schools his face and gives the immortal a cocky grin that he hopes doesn’t look as shaky as it feels. “Jenkins! Burning the midnight oil again?” He tries to joke, like the older man isn’t always awake. His voice has a breathless quality to it that sets all the warnings signals off in the caretakers head.

The thief straightens up as he makes a break towards the door, pain flaring through his side in rolling waves and under his jacket he can feel a dangerous warmth burning into his skin. He barely gets halfway across the Annex floor before Jenkins voice makes him freeze. 

“Ezekiel.” 

It’s an automatic response to stop at that tone of voice; fully ingrained in him from Baird always using it when he, Stone or Cassandra are being particularly stubborn.

Stopping was a bad idea, Ezekiel thinks to himself. One, because it gives Jenkins time to come up beside him and place a hand on his shoulder; and two, because it gives Jenkins time to come up and **_put a hand on his shoulder_** . His side screams at the small added weight and Ezekiels’ knees buckle with a weakness he’s never felt before, gloved hands shooting out to try and stem his fall with the table. 

Ezekiel thinks there isn’t enough soap in the world to wash away all the expletives he’s cursing out amidst the seethed ‘I’m fines’ and his horrible internal screeching of ‘it’sjustpain’. 

Jenkins is looking at him in full on concern now and it will be a few days later when Ezekiel will wonder which of his two mantras he was actually saying aloud (he’s not entirely sure he really wants to know). The immortal is what he’s holding onto however, not the table he had been aiming for and Ezekiel tries to draw his hands away but Jenkins grip on his wrists feels like iron; strong and unrelenting as the immortal hauls him into the annex kitchen and sets him down in a chair more gently then Ezekiel thought he would.

“Drug, Poison, and/or magic?” Jenkins grumbles heading over to one of the cupboards, opening it to a variety of sizes and colours of vials. 

Vision swimming in front of him Ezekiel considers just trying to fob it off as nothing, but Jenkins isn’t stupid and besides- he highly doubts he could get his arse off the chair at the moment. He might be worse off than he thought he was. “S’mthin’ like that.” He finally concedes. Ezekiel can feel the raised eyebrow and dissatisfied look the caretaker sends him even if he doesn’t have the wherewithal to actually raise his head and see it for himself.

With a heavy sigh Ezekiel pulls his gloves off so he can fumble at the clasp of his jacket, tugging on its sleeves with clumsy fingers and, using as few movements as possible, lets it all fall to the floor in a heap. The stench of iron immediately starts to permeate the kitchen and Ezekiel grunts as the bullet lodged in his side shifts.

“For all that is holy in this world Ezekiel Jones.” 

The thief would like to laugh at Jenkins statement but can’t seem to gather the strength needed to even draw a steady breath.

Cool fingers brush against his forehead before flinching back at the heat. “How long ago?” Jenkins asks sharply, crouching down to inspect the wound. 

He did not like what he saw. Not at all.

“Ten, f’fteen minutes?” Ezekiel replies, then hesitates a moment before adding, “S’got hemloc’ in it.”

At that Jenkins let out a curse Ezekiel knew even Eve would be proud of.

“Are you insane!” Jenkins swears as he dashes for the potion cupboard again, frantically pushing bottles aside and grabbing things Ezekiel just can’t focus on.”What were you even doing?!? Hemlock poisoning!”

Brown eyes slide closed as he listens to the caretaker, his breathing is laboured and Ezekiel feels a panic start to rise up in him at the way his arms and legs have started to burn, his limbs starting to feel like they’re falling asleep.

“You need to lay down,” Jenkins orders suddenly appearing next to him and the thief tries to flinch back, almost falling off his chair.

“W’at?” 

“You need to lie down, I need to get the bullet out before I can focus on drawing out the poison.”

Ezekiel nods, or more just let’s his head fall forward than anything else, and thinks laying on the cool marble floor might not be such a terrible idea with how hot he feels.

The immortal beside him however has a different idea, looping an arm under Ezekiel’s shoulder to help heave the young man up and onto the counter top.

“Shit-bloodyfuck!” Ezekiel almost lets loose the scream lodged in his throat as his side flares in a searing pain. He feels like he’s turning into a werewolf all over again with the all familiar sharp pain and dizziness.

“This is going to hurt.” Jenkins advises as he rips the bloodied shirt where the slit for the bullet is, pulling the clothing away from the wound. The smell of the hemlock burns his nose and he grimaces at the darkened veins branching out from where the bullet had entered. Between the blood and the swelling Jenkins can barely see the wound clearly. “High concentration... Spreading rapidly.” 

Ezekiel tries to huff but it’s a small sound, lungs already in the first stages of the paralysis from the hemlock. He does his best to hold onto the edge of the table, his oxygen depleted brain telling him how much he’s going to have to disinfect the counter before he lets anyone eat off it again. 

Focus. 

“Cut it…out…”

Ageless blue eyes look up into fever bright brown and Jenkins knows what he has to do, it just doesn’t help the twisting in his chest at the thought. 

Damn Librarians. Damn kids.

Jenkins movements are precise as the old knight pours a small amount of a blue vial around the hole in Ezekiel’s side, it’s a mix of herbs to act as a sterilization and a variety of healing waters to dull the pain. It also stings like a sonofabitch if the way Ezekiel almost jackknifes up off the table is any indication. 

Jenkins doesn’t say anything as he reaches into a small drawer next to him, stainless steel tools all laid out like a surgeons tray courtesy of the Library. With scalpel in hand the immortal sets to opening up the gunshot wound so he’ll be able to reach in with the forceps. He does his best to ignore the whimpers of pain the young boy is letting out and he thinks, in his long life time, this may be one of the most arduous tasks he’s had to do.

And he helped Arthur purpose to Merlin for chrissakes.

Ezekiel scrabbles at the flat surface of the counter, trying to think of anything thats not the overwhelming pain in his side. He needs a distraction, or preferably, to pass the fuck out already but his instincts are set on high alert and no matter how much pain he may be in, Ezekiel’s brain is telling him to stay awake- you can run in pain, but you can’t when you’re unconscious. 

He feels the cool metal start to slide under his skin and Ezekiel cracks his head back against the tiled counter top when Jenkins grabs hold of the bullet on his first try. 

Maybe he did keep some of his stupid luck from that fairy tail…

The burn of the bullet leaving his body is almost as bad as it was going in and Ezekiel shouts loudly still failing to draw a complete breath.

Jenkins will never admit thats he’s holding his breath as he drops the bullet and the forceps into a nearby dish before grabbing the purple vial, popping the glass top off with a thumb letting it crash to the floor without a care. Stepping over the broken glass the immortal reaches across the prone body on the table and presses down on the breadth of Ezekiel’s shoulders.

Tear filled brown eyes peer up and Ezekiel knows the pain isn’t over. He thinks he’ll really owe Jenkins after this. A small nod is the only acknowledgment the thief has the energy to give before his world explodes in a wash of blazing fire and the coldest ice in his veins when Jenkins pours the contents of the purple vial directly into the wound. 

The immortal counts the literal seconds as the young librarian struggles against him; finally sighing in relief when he can let his grip on the lithe shoulders slip a little as Ezekiel goes boneless under him. As carefully as he can Jenkins leans over to inspect the bullet wound. The blood has mostly stopped and the dark infection is receding more and more as he watches but both are still badly visible.. 

“The poisoning was severe, it didn’t heal all the way.” Jenkins mutters lowly. Shaky blood covered hands reach for the surgical drawer once more but when only one of his hands moves Jenkins looks back to his youngest charge and the death grip he has on his arm. “Mr. Jones? … Ezekiel…”

“Jus’ a sec,” Ezekiel pleads, breath coming in heavy gulps now that he can take them. The constricting feeling that had been strangling his lungs is loosening and the thief relishes in the stale iron taste of the kitchen. Slowly he lets go of Jenkins’ sleeve, giving his arm quick squeeze before draping both of his own hands over his face. The motion pulls on his wound but Ezekiel can barely feel it at this point, all of his nerves shot through with pain, adrenaline and whatever the hell Jenkins used. 

Blue eyes scan over the wound, a wave of relief washing over him when he sees that the black lines are all but gone. “I’m going to stitch this closed for the night, and tomorrow, based on how it looks you may be able to use a medicinal salve on it to help speed up the healing.” There’s a waver to his voice he’ll never admit too and Jenkins gets to work with the needle and suture kit. 

“T’nks…”

Jenkins’ eyes snap up from the gauze he’s using to soak up the blood around his work and his brow furrows in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Ezekiel manages to lift his arms off his face to glare down at the older man. “You h’rd me…” 

Even half unconscious and just finished not dying, Ezekiel is still stubborn to the core. Jenkins smiles softly, cutting the last thread and dropping the needle in the bowl next to the bullet. 

Ezekiel saying thank you is akin to the first time he said ‘good luck’ to Colonel Baird; something that neither of them will admit too. 

Getting to his feet Jenkins goes to the sink and watches the water turn on automatically letting the blood on his hands wash off down the drain. When he turns back to the young librarian Ezekiel’s eyes are closed and Jenkins can’t help the way he counts the boys breaths, waiting cautiously until they return to some semblance of normal.

Silence fills the kitchen for a moment as the caretaker dries his hands on a clean towel. A clock chimes in a distance room announcing the stroke of one o’clock and Jenkins sighs heavily making his way back over next to Ezekiel. “Don’t suppose you can move. Theres a room off the main annex where you’ll be spending the night.”

Ezekiel glares up blearily at the older man, “I don’t need to spend the night…” he mutters, but his voice is still thready even if he can speak his words fully. 

Jenkins blinks down at the younger man and with a roll of his eyes he reaches out to push on Ezekiel’s rib cage, far enough away to not damage anything, but close enough to prove his point when the librarian hisses. “Yes, I believe you. Come on now, it’s time for all horrible thieve’s to be in bed.”

Taking a deep breath Ezekiel manages to start pushing himself up off the island counter, but he falters with the adrenaline crash until two strong hands are there, helping him down and off the counter. The going is slow as Jenkins half helps him walk and half drags him across the main Annex floor towards a door Ezekiel doesn’t remember ever seeing. 

The door leads to a small room, double bed full of pillows and blankets and Ezekiels not sure if he’s ever seen anything so inviting in his life. (And he’s scoped out the shit security around the Hope Diamond before.)

Jenkins is careful when he drops the Australian onto the bed, moving to haul the blankets back and over the weary figure thats curling around one of the fluffier pillows. “Now, sleep, and hopefully tomorrow you’ll be well enough to explain to me what he hell you were doing getting shot at.” He snips. 

“Fine…but we n’ver tell Baird bout this, eh?” Ezekiel mutters, eyes slipping closed as exhaustion crashes over him. 

Jenkins crosses his arms glaring down at the young man half heartedly. He really, desperately wants to be angry; but the relief is still far too near for him to draw any heat into his words. “I make no promises Ezekiel...but for now, until you’re healed completely, she won’t hear it from me.”

Tired eyes crack open to look up at the ruffled caretaker and Ezekiel gives him a wane smile. “Th’nks mate.” It isn’t two more seconds more before the thief falls asleep.

“Twice in one day….hm.” Shoulders dropping Jenkins reaches out and adjusts the duvet over the sleeping librarian before heading back into the kitchen to clean up the mess. It’s only when he’s picking up Ezekiel’s bloodied jacket up off the floor that the boy’s phone drops out of his pocket. Scooping it up the immortal notices that the screen is cracked and still lit up with what Ezekiel had once showed him as his Clipping book app. His brow furrows as he reads over the information as best the can through the broken glass and it makes his hands itch for a sword. 

He’s going to have to have a talk with the boy as to what is an acceptable solo mission- and why he was even still taking them in the first place. 

Endangered Squonks be damned.

 

\--L--

 

The next morning finds Ezekiel standing in front of the kettle, eyes blurry with two large mugs with suspiciously expensive looking tea bags in them as he waits for the water to boil. He rubs at his eyes trying to wake himself up as his side throbs with a muted pain that he’s doing his best to ignore. Ezekiel’s used to small aches by now so he feels like he shouldn’t complain too much about the split in his side. 

Not when it could have been so much worse.

It says a lot of his life that a normal bullet wound is considered a small ache but the pull of his stitches as he reaches up for the sugar is nothing compared to what it felt like last night. It makes Ezekiel grimace but he just slowly breathes through the stretch, happy to be able to actually breath at all.

Respiratory arrest due to hemlock poisoning is not the way he wants to go out he decides. 

A shuffle of feet behind him has Ezekiel turning to see a rumpled Jenkins behind him; the mans hair sticking up oddly on one side and his blue eyes tired. “Morning.” The thief greets just as the kettle decides to boil. 

Jenkins grunts back but takes the mug when Ezekiel finally passes it to him. It’s the Aussies special tea he notes, inhaling the scent of bergamot and clementine. “The stitches are holding?”

Ezekiel nods and the two of them slowly make their way back to the main floor of the Annex soaking in the early morning quiet. “They’re good, barely hurts anymore.” Compared to what he experienced yesterday it feels fantastic.

“Doubt that.” Jenkins mutters around his mug as Ezekiel shoots him a flat look.

In the distance the main entrance can be heard opening and closing, far off voices echoing down the tunnel. Ezekiel tips his mug at the older man and slides behind a desk and into one of the chairs, propping his shoes up on the desk as he whips out his spare phone. 

Jenkins frowns, never having noticed how easily the mask of indifference slips onto his young charges face. The tiredness and pain seem to disappear from Ezekiel’s eyes, replaced instead with a look of boredom and disinterest. It makes the caretakers hackles raise.

Eve and Cassandra round the corner taking excitedly but they pause when they see the two already at their respective work places and Eve sends Jenkins a questioning look. 

“Good morning Colonel Baird, Miss Cillian.” Jenkins greets in reply before moving to shuffle his papers around. 

Eve frowns but goes to her desk as Cassandra flutters over to the the large Clippings book. Jenkins schools the somewhat surprised look that wants to come over this face as he meets amused, chocolate brown eyes from across the room. Perhaps Ezekiel would get away with hiding his condition from Baird after all. 

Jenkins realizes that he’s the one who probably jinxed it because it all comes crashing down a few hours after Jake arrives. The historian seems restless and everyone can tell when his last nerve is hit as Ezekiel gives him a basic grunt in reply to an open and honest question. 

Stone growls lowly at the small smirk growing in the corner the Aussies lips and it’s the last straw for him today. His foot kicks out and catches one of the legs of Ezekiel’s chair- because of course the thief can’t sit in a chair without tilting it, Eve always complains about it. It’s a move Stone has done multiple times, trying to tip his chair, but Ezekiel always moves so he gets his chair down safely on four legs in time to glare at Stone’s retreating back.

Only, today, Ezekiel can’t move fast. He can’t adjust his weight quick enough and his side screams in agony as he tries and fails to regain his balance when Stone kicks the leg of his chair out from under him. 

Ezekiel crashes into the floor, his spare phone falling out of his grasp and his breath getting knocked out of him as he hits the hard marble. He can feel as his stitches pop and his entire torso burns with a held back scream…well, a sort of held back scream he’ll admit. 

Jake watches with horrified eyes as Ezekiel topples over and he’s so unprepared for the cry of pain that he ends up frozen in his spot, “What the hel-” He’s cut off suddenly as Jenkins shoves him back and Stone’s eyes widen, if possible, even further when the immortal man kneels down next to Ezekiel his face ashen. 

“Stone! What the hell?” Eve’s shout mimics Jakes as she rushes forward to drop down on the youngest Liberians other side when he doesn’t immediately get back up. Cassandra starts to run forward as well but only gets to Jake’s side before she has to stop and press her hands over her mouth to stifle her shock.

Eve reaches out to help Jenkins hold Ezekiel still, doing a quick mental examination of him as she presses a hand to the side of the Aussies face. “Jones? Sit rep! Talk to me, whats wrong?”

Jenkins shakes his head and puts more pressure on Ezekiel’s shoulder when the young man tries to get up to shake off his Guardians concern. “Sit down you idiot.” He orders reaching for the hem of the black t-shirt that he can already tell is clinging to Ezekiels’ skin with blood. “The stitches have pulled.” He sighs in exasperation as blood seeps from the torn skin.

“W’y ta state the obvious mate.” Ezekiel finally manages to seethe out. He’ll never admit that he’s using Eve’s hand on the side of his face to ground him through the waves of pain. Well, he might admit it...if she ever asked him...

“What stitches?!” Eve demands her eyes shooting to the wound for a moment as realization dawns on her that yes, that is indeed a bullet wound. Jenkins presses his pocket square to the torn thread and Cassandra jumps at the pained yell Ezekiel let’s out at the pressure.

“Only you Mr. Jones.” Jenkins shakes his head as he turns to look at Cassandra, “The purple vial in the cupboard if you will Miss Cillian?”

Cassandra is gone in a flash of her green and blue dress and Ezekiel just tries to breath normally again. Jake hovers over Jenkins shoulder while the immortal presses onto the bleeding wound under his hands. 

Ezekiel cracks an eye open and shares a commiserating look with Jenkins. “So much fer that...”

Jenkins merely rolls his eyes as Cassandra rushes back into the room, vial in hand as she collapses next to him. 

“I got it!” She exclaims pulling the cork out of it and looking up at the older man with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next. 

Ezekiel groans when Jenkins removes the compress and he hisses once more when the caretaker claps him on the shoulder, using it to hold him down once more. 

“I’ll state again, this is going to hurt.” Jenkins warns.

Eve has a hand wrapped around one of Ezekiels’ arms and the other curled under his head. “What the hell is that?” She’s eyeing the potion like it’s dangerous and she clenches her hands, ready to pull Ezekiel away at a moments notice. 

“An anti-vemon, to combat the last of the hemlock left in his system.” Jenkins informs as he drips the purple liquid over the bleeding wound. Ezekiel jackknifes off the floor with a mix between a hiss and a scream, his eyes slammed shut against the pain that is no less intense as it was last night. 

Blue eyes glare up at Jenkins as Eve takes the opportunity to get a better grip under her charge and her heart clenches when Ezekiel curls into her with a curse. “Hemlock!?” Her voice is sharp, dangerous even as she cradles the younger man into her arms. 

Jenkins sighs as he watches the bleeding stop and the stitches fix themselves. The small black lines that had started to reform disappear and Jenkins passes the vial back to a pale looking Cassandra as he reaches out to turn the young man back towards him so he can peer into the younger mans eyes. “Jones...Ezekiel, look at me.”

Slowly and carefully, Ezekiel manages to crack his eyes open and glance up at the caretaker with watery eyes. “Y-you’re the w-orst wit’ that...” 

Ageless wrinkles appear around his eyes as Jenkins reaches out to pull the young thief out from Bairds’ careful hold. “IF, beyond all hope Mr. Jones, you would cease to get into such trouble, I would have no reason to be the worst of anything.” He replies.

Ezekiel groans and pushes himself fully out of Eve’s grasp, giving a quick squeeze to the Guardians’ hand as he shifts to sit up. “Damn, that smarts…”

“I...I didn't mean to-” Jake starts but Ezekiel just shakes his head.

“Relax cowboy...” The thief sighs, Eve’s hands helping him to get to his feet and Jenkins is with her on his other side. Together they get the younger man settled back in his now righted chair and Ezekiel sags bonelessly into the wood. 

Eves reachies out, her fingers griping Ezekiel’s face in her grasp so she can stare into his pain filled eyes. “How the hell did you get shot?” She demands.

Ezekiel swallows and tries to pull away, but Eve doesn’t let go. “It’s not a big deal-“

The snort Jenkins lets out as he recorks the potion has the thief glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. “What, you expected me to agree with that?” He shakes his head, “Squonks may be endangered Mr. Jones but now so is your capacity to do solo missions.”

“You went on a mission without us?” Jake frowns from his spot behind Eve. There’s guilt boiling in his chest; he never meant to hurt Ezekiel… he’d never want to do that… as much as the thief got on his every nerve.

The pain must have messed with his brain because before Ezekiel can stop himself he’s replying, “I take cases without you lot all the time…”

Eve’s hand on his face tightens and she drags her librarians gaze back to her. She can see him recoil at her expression but she doesn’t let go, “No more Jones, I’m serious.” She orders. “Not if they’re going to end up like this.” 

 

“You may as well face the facts, Mr. Jones.” Jenkins sighs happily, “You’ve lost this round,” 

Ezekiel wants to glare at the caretaker but Eves face is stern and he can’t look away. He can see Jake over her shoulder and theres the stubborn glint there that makes Ezekiel want to hide away.

He’s not sure what makes him give in, if it’s the pain in his side, or the way everyone is looking at him but Ezekiel just sinks back in his chair and curses to himself. “Fine.”

The others crowd around their thief and Jenkins smirks. He knows it’ll only take another week before Ezekiels’ nightly escapades start back up. The caretaker can only roll his eyes and hope the next time Ezekiel decides to galavant through the door alone, he’ll be better prepared to deal with an angry Baird and Stone. 

\--


End file.
